


My fathers son

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Lucius knows it, Other, someone help this poor kid lmao, voldemort is a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28801464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The breaths begun to catch in his throat. Lucius was mortified. He was in the middle of the hallway  embarrassing himself like a little girl. "Weak." His fathers voice echos around him. He makes move to the boys toilets but a voice cut him off."Mr Malfoy?" It was McGonagall. Lucius swallowed roughly, composing himself before turning to meet the eye of his professor. She eyed him strangely. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with you," she said slowly, eyes narrow. Lucius bit on the innards of his cheek. Her gaze burned. "He’s in his office now."OrAbraxas finally introduced Lucius to The Dark Lord. It’s hardly something Lucius can’t simply forget when returning to Hogwarts.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	My fathers son

**Author's Note:**

> So this is unbeta’d so pls tell me any mistakes (and I’m sure there are many)! Anywayssss, I’m a sucker for backstory and Lucius is one of those characters that always felt under-utilised - both in the book and films. It was only layer that Rowling realised she could have someone interesting here but by this point it was the last book. Anyways-
> 
> In my head (and in book/film canon) Lucius spoiled Draco, hence Draco’s foul Atti fire towards others. But what if this was because his father was cruel to him? What if Lucius wanted to be the opposite of Abraxas but due to his emotional stuntedness (pretty sure that’s not a word) did that via money. Ugh. Anyways. Enjoy!

front of people. Abraxas malfoy was a man forged from iron, ever icey and domineering. Lucius aimed to be the same - he usually succeeded. The wave of noise that rushed through the great hall sickened him. He never did like the dastardly commotion but never before had it made him nauseous. He pushed himself from the bench, not even sparing his peers a sneer as they glanced at him questioningly. The hall rushed past him in a glowing blur, the doors a welcome site as he shouldered through them a little more unsteadily than he’d like to admit. 

The breaths begun to catch in his throat. Lucius was mortified. He was in the middle of the hallway embarrassing himself like a little girl. " _Weak_." His fathers voice echos around him. He makes move to the boys toilets but a voice cut him off. 

"Mr Malfoy?" It was McGonagall. Lucius swallowed roughly, composing himself before turning to meet the eye of his professor. She eyed him strangely. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with you," she said slowly, eyes narrow. Lucius bit on the innards of his cheek. Her gaze burned. "He’s in his office now."

"I was heading to bed." He said plainly.

She rose a brow. "I’m sure you can make a pit stop, Mr Malfoy." She said sternly, though her voice was addled by something else. "Are you quite well, Lucius?" Pity. Lucius almost gagged. She always seemed to see something more when ever looking his way. Lucius remembered returning from the summer in the third year, when he was stiff from bruises, skin black and blue beneath his robes from his fathers rage. By that point Lucius was so well practised in stoicism that no one questioned him. Aside from McGonagall, that is. She had pulled him aside after class; it had taken all of Lucius’ will to stay indifferent. His father was infamous, no doubt he was well known for his temper - if not, at least for his nature. Lucius had dismissed the inquires stiff lipped. He remembered hoping that she didn’t notice how is eyes begun to glaze.

"Quite." He said sharply, turning on his heel and briskly walking to Dumbledore’s office. The tap of his shoes did little to muffle his thoughts. He could hear his fathers words - feel the Dark Lord’s gaze. 

"Mr Malfoy?" He jumped. Lucius blinked. He’d walked quicker than he thought, now he was standing out side Dumbledore’s office - with the old fool standing in front of him. 

"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me." Lucius uttered tightly. If McGonagall’s gaze burned, Dumbledore’s gaze pierced him, ripping through him. He tilted his head, gesturing for Lucius to come in. He did so, tensely, hands clenched. He felt oddly exposed in his office. It reminded him of before - of when his father had him paraded before the Dark Lord.   
  


_"My son, Lucius, my lord." Abraxas bowed his head._

_Lucius stood beside his father. He felt naked. The Dark Lord looked into him. "How lovely," his smile looked wrong._

"You got my message then," Dumbledore smiled at him. Lucius had to tense his muscles to suppress the shift. 

"Clearly," Lucius murmured, his usual guile dry. Dumbledore didn’t comment on such or reprimand his tone. That suprised Lucius. He was used to be reprimanded. 

"Ever with the wit, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said softly, his tone light. "Do you remember when you first came to hogwarts?" Lucius clenched his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. "You were a beacon of Malfoy pride but burned far brighter than I could have imagined. I suppose being seperate from certain influences will do that." He added the last part breezily, knowing he’d most likely offend Lucius. Though, he didn’t care enough to hold it back, clearly. "That light of yours, Lucius, it’s running low." 

_"Leave us, Abraxas." His father bowed. Within seconds he was gone._ _The Dark Lord moved towards him. "You’ve nothing to say?"_

_Lucius faltered silently. "What is it you’d like me to say, my lord?"_

_The Dark Lord chuckled. The sound made Lucius’ stomach twist. "You’re going to be a slippery one."_

"I’ve no idea what you mean." Lucius uttered. Why would no one allow him to breathe? At home his father dominated him, every blink and breath judged and punished - and that was when the dark lord wasn’t around. At Hogwarts he was ever watched, whether it being McGonagall, Dumbledore or even that ridiculous fool Slughorn. 

"You don’t need to be him." 

The simple statement had Lucius blinking. "Who?"

"Abraxas." 

Lucius scowled. "I’m not trying to," he clenched his jaw, mask slipping. Dumbledore always managed to that somehow. "Even if I were. My father is a great man." He stated lowly, not willing to take slander. Lucius thought many things of his father but they were his to think. He was still his father. A Malfoy. 

"Greatness is forged from perspective." Dumbledore said, his voice was gentle but his gaze was earnest. Lucius could feel something knew from the other man. Hope, perhaps. Lucius hated it. He hated that the man thought him weak enough to weep to him, or tells stories of his somehow wicked father. He hated that he wanted to, most of all. 

_"You’re a clever one. Cleverer than your father thinks." The Dark Lord murmured, moving towards Lucius. He stopped, sufficiently invading Lucius’ personal space. "He brought you here reluctantly. His only hope being that I’d take favour to his pretty sons face." Lucius ground a wince into stone. Voldermort smirked at that, reaching out to take hold of his chin. "On that front, I suppose he was right."_

"Speak to me," Dumbledore said firmly.

_The Dark Lord turned his face left, and then right. Lucius could feel his stomach churning at the intense gaze. "Very nice, indeed." He used his other hand to take Lucius’ arm, pulling it forth._

"I wish to help." 

_It burned. Lucius didn’t so much as flinch. The Dark Lord liked that. He smiled, "I thought your father wise. You’re far more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?"_

_He was awaiting an answer, Lucius realised. His brain was still addled from the pain. "I like to think so, My Lord." He offered waveringly._

_"We’re on the same side now, Lucius - you belong to me." His hand left his arm, moving his hair from his shoulder. His movements were deliberate, he could sense the way Lucius tensed when he came near. His hand moved from his hair, to his chin and then to his neck. He pressed his thumb firmly, the pressure significant. "Always." The pressure increased. Lucius understood. Once you belonged to The Dark Lord, you didn’t leave him. The only escape from his side was when one’s heart stopped beating. Voldermort smiled at the flickering of emotions in his eyes. "You understand that, don’t you, dear boy?"_

_  
  
_

"You can’t help me." Lucius said. It was the most honest he’d been to Dumbledore in years. 


End file.
